


just nod if you can hear me

by rhysgore



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Somnophilia, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 07:17:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15576663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysgore/pseuds/rhysgore
Summary: she could put her hands around his throat, and he wouldn’t realize he was dying until his heart stopped.





	just nod if you can hear me

The last twenty-four hours have felt like a blur.

 

Whether the strangers appearing at the Father’s church was a catalyst, or just another part of everything that had already been happening, Faith isn’t sure. She supposes that time will tell, eventually, but the reality is that it doesn’t really matter. 

 

The war rages on outside, but for now, she has her own responsibilities to attend to.

 

When he was dragged from the river, the Marshal seemed so  _ tense.  _ Kicking and screaming, threatening his empty threats as he was taken to her bunker, dumped unceremoniously in front of her with his wrists and ankles bound.

 

He was strong. He would have made a good angel. But Faith had seen something else in him. She’d given him Bliss to stop his struggling, and led him away to her personal rooms.

 

Now he sits in a high-backed chair, staring off into the distance like it’s going to reveal some great truth to him. His shoulders have slumped forwards. His face has relaxed- Faith had noticed the lines etched into his skin, the product of years in what was undoubtedly a stressful work environment, and notices them fading slightly now, making him look younger. The Marshal’s dark eyes are smooth and glassy, and he doesn’t see her as she approaches, bare feet making just the barest whisper on the floor. He won’t see her unless Faith wants him to- though maybe in his fantasy he feels when she drags a finger up his arm to his shoulder, caressing the firm line of his jaw.

 

She presses a soft kiss to his temple.

 

“Rest,” she says. As if she’s given him a choice.

 

When the Father had handed him off to her, he’d called the man “Burke”. No first name- she’ll have to ask him for it later, she supposes- but the last fits him. Solid, dependable.

 

Faith’s hands move, down Marshal Burke’s chest, soft and exploratory. The Father would probably want her to change his clothing- his uniform, besides making him stick out like a sore thumb, doesn’t exactly fit in with the aesthetics of Eden’s Gate. Stiff black fabric, heavy kevlar, all buttoned and strapped up. It almost resembles a straitjacket. Beneath it, he’s dirty- blood, sweat, soaked through and coated with dirt from the river.

 

That won’t do. He can’t walk the path now, not yet, but he should be  _ clean,  _ at least. Faith frowns as she searches for the catches of his vest, undoing the buckles one by one with neat little snaps. She gently eases Burke’s arms up, removes his armor before carefully sliding off his sodden shirt.

 

There’s a rag nearby, and a faucet. Faith scrubs the Marshal’s chest, his stomach, his arms and face. The thin layer of grime comes off with a little effort, although he still shivers, shirtless and damp in the already cool underground air.

 

“Shh,” she says, stroking his face. “I have to do this. I can’t let you just sit around in that filth.”

 

Burke doesn’t respond. He’s at peace, now. Shoulders relaxed, breathing deeply, soft and pliable against her hands. Faith unties his boots, slides both them and his socks off and places them to the side. He doesn’t resist her when she pulls him into a standing position, doesn’t stop her from unbuckling his belt, removing his holster, his badge, his radio. Everything that connects him to his old life is methodically stripped away as Faith tugs his pants and underwear down to his ankles, and off.

 

Now that he’s naked, Faith takes a moment to step back and look at him again. He’s fit, although she hadn’t expected any different, firm lines of muscles etched into his chest, his stomach, his thighs. He’s got goosebumps, hair standing on edge from the chill. And he’s hard.

 

“Ah,” Faith intones, raising an eyebrow.

 

It’s not particularly surprising- one of the major effects of Bliss is an almost euphoric pleasure, after all. The fact that someone might have a physical response to its mental effects is hardly the oddest thing about the drug, and at this point it isn’t anything novel to her.

 

Not strange, not new, but still an opportunity.

 

Faith places her hand between Burke’s legs, squeezes slightly. He doesn’t react in the slightest, still staring off into the distance. Too deep in the Bliss to register any sensation from the world of the real- she could put her hands around his throat, and he wouldn’t realize he was dying until his heart stopped. The control Faith exerts over him is absolute, unwavering, and she has all the freedom in the world to take exactly what she wants.

 

She slides easily into the Marshal’s lap, knees on either side of his thighs, hands resting on his shoulders. His body is warm, solid, and completely unresponsive to Faith’s advances, even when she gets closer, presses their chests together, and kisses him. Coarse beard hair rubs against her lips and cheeks, prickling slightly.

 

The Father wouldn’t approve of this. Lust is a sin, after all, but she’s  _ far  _ from the only one in the family guilty of it. She’s not naive- she saw the look in Jacob’s eyes when they pulled the scrawny one from the helicopter, the cruel hunger written plainly on his face. She can’t claim to know the specifics of what he’s doing to that man now, but knowing Jacob, it hurts. What she does takes the pain away- and isn’t that a kindness?

 

She wraps a hand around his cock, stroking it pensively. It’s  _ far  _ from disappointing- thick, with a fat, broad head, red and glistening- and Faith licks her lips, anticipating. It’s been a while since she’s indulged herself like this- the Angels just aren’t the same, all twitching, dead eyes, soulless moans that are more haunted than pleasured. 

 

His skin is warm, soft, and she can feel the slight flutter of his pulse. Far more pleasant than the Angels, who are cold and clammy in a way that makes them feel like she’s fucking a corpse. With her other hand, Faith pulls her own underwear down, shimmying out of lacy white panties, tossing them carelessly to the side as she adjusts her position, raising her hips and pressing closer to Burke’s chest. His cock slides between her thighs, head rubbing against her slit.

 

Faith kisses him again, gently biting at his slack mouth. It’s a nice mouth, and she files the idea of putting it to better use away for later. That kind of control requires a more precise touch, hooks dug deeper into Burke’s brain than she currently has them- and right now, this is enough. 

 

She squeezes his cock, holding it still as she slowly slides onto it, easing her way down the thick shaft until she’s seated in Burke’s lap once again, breath coming a little harder now.

 

“N-not bad,” she says, closing her eyes as she leans forwards. He feels so warm, pulsing just slightly with every movement. Faith rests her forehead against his bare chest, taking a brief moment to get used to the sensation of him inside of her.

 

Then she moves, flexing her thighs, pushing herself up and falling back down again. Slowly at first, but she quickly builds up to a hard, unrelenting pace, panting as she rides him. The Marshal doesn’t move- doesn’t do anything but sit there and stare right through her, eyes glassy and distant.

 

He can’t feel anything, but it doesn’t matter. Faith fucks herself on his cock until she’s moaning, until her hair is plastered to her forehead and neck with sweat, working her way to a shuddering, full-body orgasm that makes her legs shake and her stomach plummet like she’d just taken a fall off of a cliff.

 

When she’s finished, Faith gets up, wobbling slightly as she pulls herself off of Burke’s cock. She strips off her dress, drinks from the faucet, allows herself to cool down. Then, she looks back at Burke. Still sitting there, passive and unmoving. Still loose, relaxed. And still hard- nothing she’d done to him had been enough to penetrate the thick fog of Bliss.

 

“Up for round two?” She asks him, fey smile twisting her lips. “Just give me a moment. I’ll be right back.”

 

She’s meant to make an example out of this man, undoubtedly. Show the outsiders & the nonbelievers what happens to those who would try to bring Eden’s Gate to ruin. But Faith thinks maybe it might be better for both of them if she kept him, right here, just like this.

**Author's Note:**

> you know the video you can see occasionally on tv sets in the henbane? yeeeah


End file.
